Author's Note: This answers the September 2002 Challenge, to describe the same place from three points of view. If you can't figure it out, the first is Jason, second is Hercules, and third is Iolaus.
Secretly, I think Alcmene was relieved when I stepped down as king and relinquished all my royal luxuries. She was never one for royal trappings and greatly preferred the simpler joys. But I know she was worried about me. Wondering how I would take to her small home after living in a castle my entire life, being pampered and served. Well, I can’t say that I was happy about turning my back on my father’s kingdom, but I never had any regrets about choosing to make a life with her. Her home was small, true, but it was clean and bright and welcoming. But more importantly, it was hers. Her essence permeated every room. The little house shone with warmth, filled with pretty trinkets and perfumed with the delicate scent of the flowers she labored over in the garden. Every day, it seemed, I would discover a new little accent that I’d previously missed. A little picture hidden away in the border design along the wall. Or an intricate carving on a small table leg. These little things all added to the overall ambience, which was one of cosy invitation. Something that my large, drafty, foreboding castle could never achieve, no matter how many priceless treasures graced the grim walls. As with everything in her life, Alcmene’s house was a reflection of her. A portrait of grace and beauty. And now, even thought she’s gone, I still feel her here, in this house. It is still bright and welcoming, because it will forever be warmed by the power of her loving heart.
They say you can never go home again. In a way that’s true. Home is innocence, which is ultimately shattered once you leave it in favor of the world. But for me, home is the one place I can go, and forget for a moment all of the horrors that I’ve seen. Once I step through the doorway, I’m back to being a child again. Or at least, I regain that childlike naivete. The walls around me are stronger than steel, and can keep out any form of monster. And the ceiling is sturdy above my head, blocking the prying eyes of the gods. I can look around and see all the familiar objects, comforted to know that I’m not sleeping on the hard ground or in an unfamiliar inn. The house holds onto memories, but only the good ones. I can stretch out in front of the fireplace, dreaming about what heroes Iolaus and I are going to be. For he’s here, too. The house is strong; too strong for even Dahak. And I can sit at the table, seeing my mother sitting across from me, telling me how proud she is and how much she loves me. Not even death can get through those walls. Oh, eventually I’ll have to leave. And once I step out of the safety of home, it will all come back again. Lives lost, people betrayed, suffering, torture... But for now, all of that is forgotten. The warm memories that the house holds in its loving embrace swirl around me, overwhelming my thoughts. For now, I’m happy. I’m safe. I’m home.
It’s not my house, but that’s how I came to think of it. Alcmene’s house was what I had always envisioned a real home to be. The exact opposite of my own. Her fireplace was always lit, pouring out heat and not allowing any shivering, not even on the coldest days. And the pot above the fire was always bubbling, wafting tantalizing aromas through the room, not allowing any hunger. The smooth floors were very forgiving of tracked in mud, and the walls were equally forgiving of the occasional wayward ball. Only laughter was permitted. The house, so bright and cheerful, didn’t allow angry shouts or tears. Whenever I turned the corner in the lane and the house came into view, I could almost hear it calling out to me. No matter when I would show up, it welcomed me in, the very walls pulsing with love, telling me that I belonged there. Over the years, whenever I truly got lost, I would automatically find my way back to Alcmene’s house, and from there I would gather the strength to find my way to where I needed to be. To this day, I still glance back at the house when the time comes to leave. It stands tall and proud. And as I walk away, I hear it calling to me. Telling me that it will always be there, whenever I get tired or hungry or cold or scared. That wherever my travels may lead, and whatever trials I might face, I will always have a safe haven waiting for me. It’s a thought that comforts me, for even the bravest of heroes and the boldest of adventurers still need a home to come home to once in awhile.
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